“Listen,” said Rudi. “If the Giant shows himself before we get to the storehouse, we should drop the beans and run. It’s not the best thing, but it might have to do.”
“If the Giant shows himself, we’re done for anyway,” said Agatha. “So I suggest we don’t rouse him in the first place.”
After a few minutes’ wary walking, they had rounded the manor house and now were standing within sight of its back garden. They dashed across a small expanse of open meadow toward another stone wall, this one only as high as Rudi’s waist. The wall enclosed a cobbled yard with a chicken coop and a kitchen garden full of fragrant herbs. The front of the house had been regal and imposing. But here, in the back, it was homey. Welcoming. Rudi almost wished he could sit on the wall and bask in the sunlight.
“There’s the storehouse,” whispered Agatha, indicating a small stone outbuilding at the far end of the wall. “The door is on the other side.”
Rudi nudged Susanna Louisa, who was gazing dreamily at the hens scratching in the yard. “Listen, Susanna, we should stay together. We’ll return the beans and then go.”
She nodded, but she was watching the chickens so intently that Rudi wondered if she had heard him. He grasped her by the arm. “We’re ready, Agatha.”
With one last glance toward the manor house, Agatha pushed away from the wall and dashed toward the storehouse.
Before Rudi could follow, Susanna gasped. Her mouth hung open, and she pointed at the courtyard.
Rudi froze. “What’s wrong?”
“There!” cried Susanna, forgetting all about being quiet. “Hildy!”
“Where? Who?” And then he remembered. Hildy was Susanna Louisa’s pet hen.
“That’s impossible, Susanna. Hildy is back home in Brixen.”
“No! That’s her!” And Susanna Louisa scrambled to climb the low wall.
“Rudi!” said Agatha from the other direction. “Are you coming?”
Rudi felt the blood drain from his head. He had no choice. He was responsible for Susanna Louisa. He could not let her be seized by the Giant because of a familiar-looking chicken.
“Wait!” he called to Agatha. He fumbled in his pocket, and then finally drew out the little pouch and tossed it to her. In a single motion she caught the pouch, turned, and bolted toward the storehouse.
Susanna had managed to climb onto the wall, and now she stood with a full view of the courtyard. And the chickens had a full view of her. They scurried and squawked, and Rudi would have shushed them if he’d thought it would do any good.
“Hildy!” called Susanna. “Come here!”
Rudi frantically tugged at Susanna’s ankle. “I don’t think chickens come when you call them.”
“Of course they don’t. You have to go get her.”
“Don’t be silly, Susanna! That hen only looks like Hildy.”
“That is her! I’d know her speckles anywhere. Besides, I can prove it. She has a scar on her leg. She got it in a fight with a mean rooster. And I rescued her, and now she’s my very own hen, and that nasty hexenmeister can’t have her!”
Several thoughts swirled in Rudi’s head. But the first thing he blurted was, “You rescued Hildy from a rooster? How?”
“Easy. I stood in the yard and screamed until Papa came running and separated them with a rake.”
“Oh.”
“And ever since, Hildy is my very own hen. I’d know her anywhere. How did she get to Petz? We need to take her home! Please, Rudi. We can’t leave Hildy here!”
Rudi winced. Despite his better judgment, something told him they would not be leaving without this hen. And something else told him that because of the racket they were making, they might have company very soon. He glanced toward the storehouse, but there was no sign yet of Agatha. How long could it take to toss a handful of beans into the proper sack?
“Hildy!” Susanna called again. “Come here now!”
Before he could change his mind, Rudi climbed onto the low stone wall. He kept one eye on the storehouse and one eye on the speckled hen, who fluttered toward him just inside the wall. As soon as Hildy passed him, Rudi leaped down and gave chase. Susanna jumped in front of Hildy to block her path. In the confusion, the hen flapped into a corner of the yard. Seeing his chance—perhaps his only chance—Rudi dove onto the cobbles and wrapped his arms around Hildy.
Hildy squawked wildly and pecked the air. She kicked her legs, and tried to flap her wings, but Rudi held on tight.
“Here, Rudi!” It was Agatha, appearing out of nowhere and offering an empty burlap sack.
In a flurry of speckled feathers, Rudi grabbed the sack and stuffed Hildy in.
“We did it!” Susanna threw her arms around Agatha. “Hildy! You’re saved!”
Inside the sack, Hildy gave one last halfhearted flutter, as if already accepting her fate. The other chickens, apparently relieved that the attention had not been directed at them, went back to their clucking and scratching. Rudi sat sprawled on the cobbles, breathless and hot. He had torn his pants and bruised his knee. His knuckle was bleeding.
“Thank you, Rudi!” whispered Susanna Louisa, as if whispering mattered now.
Rudi brushed the dust out of his hair with one hand, and sucked on the bloody knuckle of the other.
Agatha helped him to his feet. “We should go. Now.”
“The beans,” he gasped. “Did you—”
But his words were interrupted by a sound. It started low and far away.
Fummm.
Susanna’s eyes grew wide. “Rudi? What was that?”
Rudi swallowed a lump the size of a hen’s egg. “I’m not sure. . . .”
“It’s time to go,” said Agatha grimly, and she vaulted over the stone wall.
Fummm. . . . Fummm. The low sound was louder now, and closer. Rudi wasn’t sure if he heard it with his ears or felt it with his body, or both. He grabbed Susanna and heaved her over the wall into Agatha’s arms.
Fummm. . . . Fummm. . . . FUMMM.
“Rudi! Hurry!” Susanna yelped.
Rudi hoisted the squawking sack onto his shoulder and scrambled over the wall.
FUMMM. . . .
The sound was coming from inside the manor house. And it was most definitely getting closer. Agatha was already sprinting for the hedge.
Rudi grabbed Susanna’s hand. “Run!”
16
Rudi and Susanna raced across the meadow after Agatha. If they could reach the shelter of the hedge before the Giant caught sight of them, they might have a chance to escape.
FUMMM. . . .
They dived through an opening in the hedge just as new sounds came to Rudi’s ears. A door slamming. A voice bellowing in the open air. “Who dares to invade my home? Where is the thief whose blood is spilled on my doorstep?”
Rudi’s breath caught in his throat. His scraped knuckle stung and throbbed, but it hardly bled at all.
So that story is true too, Rudi thought.
He sprinted along the narrow pathway between the hedge and the wall. He could barely keep Agatha in sight ahead of him, but he dared not let go of Susanna’s hand. And the chicken was heavy, and the sack bounced on his shoulder and kept catching on the brambles in the hedge.
FUMMM. . . .
Just when Rudi thought he might collapse from effort, the small wooden door came into view. Agatha was already there, struggling with the latch. As Rudi and Susanna caught up with her, the latch gave way and Agatha wrenched the door open. She pushed Rudi and Susanna through and then followed them out, slamming the door behind her and plunging them into winter once more.
The cold air slapped Rudi’s face like an icy hand. He gasped and coughed as the cold filled his lungs. He buttoned his coat as best he could.
“To the beanstalk!” Agatha shouted over the howling wind.
“But your papa!” said Susanna. “He’s waiting for us! We promised him!”
Agatha shook her head. “That’s the first place the Giant will look. He will kill us if he finds u
s, and Papa, too!” She grabbed Susanna’s hand and started across the slope.
“Wait!” Rudi remembered exactly where the beanstalk stood. Down the slope, past the village, behind a clump of trees. He had committed it to memory for just this circumstance. “This way!” He pulled Susanna in the opposite direction.
“Don’t be silly!” said Agatha, pulling even harder, until Rudi thought poor Susanna might be torn in two.
FUM. . . .
There was no time to argue. This was Agatha’s mountain. Perhaps she knew a shortcut. Or a roundabout way, so as not to lead the Giant through the village and past her father’s house.
FUM. . . .
Rudi had no choice. He followed Agatha.
They hurried across the slope, in the opposite direction from the way they had come. In a moment another hedge came into view, half-hidden in the icy fog.
But it was not a hedge. It was the beanstalk, and it was nowhere near the place where Rudi had thought it would be. How had be become so disoriented? But after the horrible confusion of the last few moments, he did not care. He followed Agatha and Susanna into the vines of the beanstalk, and began to climb upward inside the green tunnel.
“Will the Giant follow us?” said Susanna, and Rudi stole a fearful glance below him. He was wondering the same thing.
“I hope not,” said Agatha. “He’s not very fast. And I don’t think he’d fit.”
Rudi found no comfort in this. But as they climbed ever higher, all was quiet below them.
Before long the beanstalk began to level out, and just as before, it soon became a tunneled roadway. They were able to move more quickly here, and Rudi adjusted the burlap sack on his shoulder. Hildy did not protest but only clucked uncertainly, as if she knew there was nothing she could do about her situation. Rudi knew how she felt.
“Rudi?” said Susanna after a few moments. “How do you suppose Hildy got to Petz? Has the Giant been to Brixen?”
Rudi’s mouth went dry at the thought. The Brixen Witch had warned about the danger of witches crossing borders. In his hurry to set things right in Petz, had Rudi left his own village exposed to even worse trouble?
He refused to think such awful thoughts. He had enough awful things to think about already. “Agatha?” he said. “How did you get ahead of us on the beanstalk? I mean, Susanna and I were there when the beanstalk sprouted. But when we got to Petz, you were already there. How did you manage that?”
Agatha only shook her head. “I was there when the beanstalk sprouted, and I didn’t see you.”
Rudi frowned at this. He wanted to believe her. It was possible, wasn’t it? Perhaps Agatha had been nearby on the Berg when they had planted the single bean. The ground had shaken so much when the vine had sprouted that perhaps they hadn’t even noticed her. “Did you see the Brixen Witch?”
A shrug. “She didn’t say she was a witch. She didn’t look like a witch. At least not any witch that I’ve ever seen.”
“How many witches have you seen?” asked Susanna, awestruck. “Besides your giant hexenmeister?”
“Only one, I suppose,” admitted Agatha. “But just the same, I know she was a witch.”
The beanstalk was sloping downward now. They were more than halfway to the border.
“I looked for you . . . ,” said Agatha.
“Me?” Rudi’s face burned, and for a moment he forgot about doubting her. “I mean, us? When?”
“After we first met, at the marketplace. Susanna insisted I should have a cow for the beans. Do you remember, Susanna? After we parted, I started thinking that perhaps you weren’t joking.”
“I wasn’t joking,” said Susanna Louisa. “I don’t know how to tell a joke.”
Agatha gave a half smile. “So I tried to find you. To explain that I could not lead a cow through the mountains. But you were already gone.”
Rudi halted his downward steps. “We tried to find you!”
“So that’s how we missed one another?” said Agatha, coming to a stop just behind him. “Each one looking, and neither one standing still long enough to be found?”
“Something like that,” muttered Rudi, shifting Hildy in her sack.
Agatha took the Hildy-sack from Rudi and settled it onto her own shoulder. “When I couldn’t find you, I walked to Brixen, to explain about the cow.”
Rudi stared at her. “You came to Brixen?”
Agatha nodded. “You told me you lived at the dairy, yes? But by the time I found it, the house was dark, and the windows shuttered. So I slept in the barn. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t mind. It was quite cozy and warm, with the cow and the calf, and the snoring dairyman, and the sweet cat—”
“Wait!” said Rudi. It all sounded like home, and yet . . . it didn’t. “What did the cat look like?”
Agatha tilted her head, thinking. “A big cat. Gray and white stripes. Very sweet. Kept me warm all night.”
Susanna Louisa gasped. “That’s her, Rudi! That’s Zick-Zack!”
“Her name is Zick-Zack?” said Agatha, and then she frowned. “What’s wrong? She doesn’t have fleas, does she?” Agatha hurried to scratch her head.
“The fleas wouldn’t dare,” said Rudi absently. He continued walking down the slope.
“It’s just that Zick-Zack isn’t sweet to anyone,” offered Susanna Louisa, munching on bean pods as she walked. “She’s the meanest cat in the whole wide world.”
“Ha!” said Agatha. “I told you I have a way with cats. Perhaps I should check my pockets for fish after all.”
Susanna laughed at this, but Rudi could not see the humor in this conversation. Something was going on. Agatha wasn’t lying now; there could be no mistaking her description of Zick-Zack. And yet, something was wrong.
The beanstalk had become a ladder again, and now they were climbing down. In a matter of minutes they would arrive at the border, near the Brixen Witch’s own front door. The witch would have answers for all the questions that filled Rudi’s head. At least, he hoped she would.
Agatha continued. “In the morning I went to the house looking for you, but you had already gone. On an errand, the witch said. She pointed the way. And then, before my eyes, the beanstalk grew. That’s how I know the old woman was a witch.”
And Rudi nearly understood, but not quite. All the pieces of the puzzle were there, but they were laid out wrong. He struggled to rearrange the pieces in his mind.
“The witch,” he said. “You met her after you climbed the Berg?”
“No, silly,” said Agatha. “She answered your door!”
And then some pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
“Agatha! The old woman you met was not a witch. She’s my grandmother. And that means the beanstalk you climbed was not—”
“We’re here!” announced Agatha. Her feet touched solid ground, and then Susanna’s did, and then Rudi’s. From inside the burlap sack, Hildy gave a feeble squawk.
They stepped out of the beanstalk’s open doorway and found themselves in a familiar place.
“My bean!” cried Susanna. “It sprouted!”
17
Susanna Louisa was right. They were home in Brixen, on the riverbank.
“I knew my bean would sprout! I knew it!”
Rudi stared at Agatha, astounded. “How did you do it?”
“Me?” said Agatha. “I didn’t do anything. It must have been the witch. I mean, your grandmother.”
There was that unpleasant, nagging feeling again. The feeling that Agatha was not telling him the whole truth. “Oma couldn’t have,” he told her. “She’s not a—”
“Look, Rudi!” said Susanna, pointing. “It’s Mama and Papa!” She waved excitedly at her parents, who were standing nearby, gaping at their daughter.
And they were not alone. It looked to Rudi as though half the population of Brixen was milling about on the riverbank and on the footbridge, staring at the beanstalk and murmuring among themselves. A large area around the beanstalk had been roped off to keep the crush of v
illagers away. Rudi spied Oma standing just beyond the rope, next to a small man with a bald head and a huge mustache. The mayor.
“What are you doing?” said a familiar gruff voice. It was Marco the blacksmith, emerging from behind the beanstalk with a great axe resting on his shoulder. If he’d noticed the three children stepping out from the tangle of vines, he made no sign.
“Master Smith!” Rudi said. “What’s going on?”
“No one’s allowed inside these here ropes without the mayor’s permission,” said Marco. “You’d best stay back, and your friends too, until it’s your turn.”
“Our turn?” said Rudi. “For what?”
“Ah, right. You’ve been away on an errand, haven’t you?” said Marco. He pointed with his thumb at the beanstalk. “So you’ve missed all the excitement!”
It occurred to Rudi that he hadn’t missed all the excitement, but he held his tongue. He hoped Susanna Louisa would do the same.
But she wasn’t interested in talking just now. She ducked under the rope, ran through the crowd, and leaped into her father’s outstretched arms. Her mother shifted a red-faced infant in her arms and bent to cover Susanna with kisses.
“At least the tanner’s girl is home safe-like,” said Marco. “The way her mother’s been carrying on, you’d think the two of you had gone off to the moon, or to Petz, or some such outlandish place.”
Rudi gave a weak smile. “We were gone a bit longer than we’d planned.”
“And then there’s that squalling baby,” Marco added, covering an ear with his free hand. “We’ve had not a moment’s peace on our end of the village.”
“Master Smith? What are you doing, exactly?”
“Guarding,” replied Marco, standing at attention. “On the mayor’s orders, on account of this here overgrown weed is causing no end of trouble, but not one of these fools will leave it alone without a bit of convincing. Who’s your new friend, anyway?” His face split into a wide grin, and he gave Rudi a jovial nudge. “Did you pluck her from one of them vines?”
Rudi felt hot and itchy. He pulled off his coat and unbuttoned his collar.
Agatha stepped forward and hitched a quick curtsy. “I’m Rudi’s cousin. From Klausen.”
One Witch at a Time Page 8
